


how do you soften the thought of carrying coffins?

by good_ho_mens



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I am very sorry, Toby Smith | Tubbo Needs a Hug, guys im sorry, idk how to tag this, istg im working on fluff guys im so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_ho_mens/pseuds/good_ho_mens
Summary: Tommy is dead. Tubbo has been here before.
Relationships: Jack Manifold & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & Toby Smtih | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 17
Kudos: 107





	how do you soften the thought of carrying coffins?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! listen to this playlist for more pain :) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0XOgr3vDAbqW3jfEkWQoWQ?si=8cdbd4cf75ba4558

He’s been through this before. Standing with fake grief while someone tells him a fake story. 

He’s been here before. He’s felt this before. 

“He’s not really dead,” Tubbo says. Jack looks away, Ranboo smiles, and it’s not real, and it’s not an agreement. Tubbo laughs, a little too high pitched and forced. “It’s not! We’ve been through this before! Dream is— he just— he’s not  _ dead.” _

Jack stuffs his hands in his pockets, “I’ve gotta talk to Niki and Big Q. I’ve gotta— I’m gonna go. There are more people who should know.”

“Know what?” Tubbo calls after him. Jack’s shoulders stiffen as he walks away. Tubbo turns to Ranboo, “there isn’t anything to tell.”

“Tubbo, maybe we should…” Ranboo stops. “What do you need me to do?”

“Need? I don’t need anything.”

“Okay.”

“He’s fine.”

“Okay.”

Tubbo glares, turning on his heel until he’s by the prison wall. His expression is determined as he pulls stone from his inventory and throws it down. 

“He’s fine,” Tubbo says to himself. 

Ranboo climbs after him, a little slower, a little more subdued. 

Tubbo’s been here before. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the top so Tommy can see my name tag.”

He left him alone for too long. He left him alone and did nothing and Dream was there and Tubbo has  _ been here before. _

“Tubbo,” Ranboo calls after him. His voice wavers. Tubbo’s hand slips and he drops onto his knees. The stone digs into his pants and his palms and he lets out a shaking breath and then another. 

Ranboo stops next to him, dropping down onto his own knees beside him. His hand drops onto Tubbo’s head. 

“He’s not gone. He wasn’t— he isn’t—“

They sit on the stone pillar by the prison and Dream is there and Tommy  _ isn’t. _

“I’m sorry,” Ranboo says. 

Tubbo closes his eyes and wills it all to disappear. 

He finds himself on the bench. Of course he does. 

It’s raining. Of course it is. 

Tubbo has always thought that Tommy fills space no one can. That he’s light and noise in the darkest, quietest corner. He’s the sort of person you’d follow into hell. 

Tubbo knows because he has, and he’d do it again. 

He’d do it as many times as he asked. He’d fight the sunrise for TommyInnit. 

He bows his head and the rain drips down his neck and he thinks that if this were real, he’d find a way to fight death, too. 

But it isn’t real. No matter how tall the pillar in his peripheral is as it casts a shadow over his head. The rain sticks his hair to his forehead and none of it is real.

Surely not. 

“Tubbo?” 

The voice is soft, and kind, when it’s supposed to be teasing or stern. It’s a leader and a brother and friend turned sour and too many betrayals. He imagines a uniform and a family and songs by the fire at night. The voice says his name again. Tubbo forces himself to look. 

Jack. Of course it’s Jack. His eyes are tired and his hands fidget at his sides. Tubbo stares up at him, the pillar casts them both in shadow. It’s not real. 

“You remind me of Wilbur, sometimes,” he says, and turns away. 

Jack doesn’t say anything. He drops his coat over Tubbo’s shoulders and the pillar contrasts with the two ghosts who aren’t there and Jack reminds him of a brother he was supposed to have and the bench—

The bench is missing a boy, and Tubbo is missing a friend. 

“He’s gone?” Tubbo whispers. Jack doesn’t answer. Tubbo’s eyes sting. 

It’s real.

He won’t cry. 

Tommy filled every space that Tubbo was scared to go and made it light and fine and not at all scary and he’s  _ gone  _ and Tubbo is  _ terrified. _

“I have to go,” he tells Jack.

Jack doesn’t ask where. “Keep the coat,” he says instead, “no use freezing before you get there.”

Tubbo wonders how much Jack really sees. 

Techno’s porch is lit brightly by lanterns, and there’s music bleeding out from under the door. Tubbo recognizes it from when he was younger and things were okay. It’s Phil’s favorite disc. 

Tubbo never thought much of discs. He never fought wars over them. 

He only ever fought wars for people. For a person.

The music lowers in volume when he knocks. Tubbo is terrified. His scars burn. Tommy is dead. 

Tubbo is engulfed in flames.

The door swings open and there’s something stern on Techno’s face and there’s a sword in his hand and Tubbo forgot to even bring armor. 

“I need you to kill someone,” he says before Techno can get a word in. “I need you to break through fifteen layers of obsidian and kill someone.”

Technoblade rolls his eyes. He doesn’t put down his sword. “I know you and Tommy have your whole codependency thing goin’ on—“

“He’s dead,” Tubbo says. The music inside stops. 

“What?” Phil’s voice calls from inside. 

Tubbo’s eyes water and he stares up at Techno with more heat than he’s ever held in a glare and his burns don’t matter and L’Manburg doesn’t matter because Tommy is dead and Technoblade can fix it. 

“Make him bring him back,” he hissed. “And then kill him.”

“Tubbo—“

“You’re the only one who can! You and Phil! Bring him  _ back.”  _ Tubbo swipes his arm across his eyes and he’d stomp his foot if he wasn’t trying so hard not to sound like a child. “Bring him back. If you—“

“Mate,” Phil interrupts. His eyes are tired when he slips past Techno and onto the porch. He leans down slightly, setting his hands on Tubbo’s shoulders. “Why don’t you come inside? There’s ice in your hair.”

Tubbo steps back, pulling away from Phil’s grip, “Don’t pity me because I’m all you have left of them.”

Phil freezes, and then stands to his full height. Tubbo thinks he’s terrifying but he’s too angry to do anything but glare. 

There’s conflict in Techno’s expression. Slowly, he shakes his head. “I can’t kill him. Wouldn’t work. I’m… sorry.”

“Come inside?” Phil asks again. 

Tubbo stumbles back into the snow and it burns his calves and he’s so, so angry. “No.”

He turns around and trips in the snow once, his tears freeze on his cheeks. Jack’s coat hangs heavy on his shoulders. Phil calls out one more time, and then there’s silence. 

Tubbo wishes they’d turn the music back on. Tommy would like the music. 

He falls flat on his side when he turns halfway and someone is following him, dropping into the snow like deadweight. “What—“

“I won’t kill Dream,” Technoblade says gruffly, he offers Tubbo a hand. “Dunno how that would go, for me or the server. But I’m not about to let the thing Tommy gave up everythin’ for freeze to death.”

Don’t freeze to death. Your best friend is dead but here’s my coat and here’s my hand and don’t freeze to death. Your best friend is dead and the person who killed him is fine but watch out for the snow, little flame. 

Tubbo takes Techno’s hand. 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he says, wrapping his arms around himself. 

Techno regards him carefully, “Grief does things.”

Withers. Wilbur. Too many people yelling in absolute grief to tell the voices apart. 

“Grief does things,” Tubbo repeats. 

They walk in silence. 

_ “I’m tired today, do we have to go?” _

_ “Come on, big man!” Tubbo yanks at Tommy’s arm, pressing a pickaxe into his hand. “It’s a beautiful day!” _

_ “Great. We get to spend it in a hole.” _

_ “Tommy.” _

_ Tommy rolls his eyes, “Fine. Jesus. You’re clingy lately.” _

_ “You’re sad lately,” Tubbo retorts.  _

_ “If I died, would you lay in bed for days?” _

_ “No.” _

_ “You fuck!” _

_ “I wouldn’t lie in bed for days because I would be causing massive amounts of destruction,” Tubbo says seriously. It startles a laugh out of Tommy. A real laugh. The first one since Wilbur died.  _

_ “Alright, Tubzo. I’ll believe it, I’ll believe it.” _

“Uh,” Techno nudges Tubbo, his eyebrows furrowed. “You in there?”

“Yeah,” Tubbo says. He falls silent for a few seconds before the quiet is too loud and he has to fill it. “Did I ever tell you why I became President?”

“Power? Wilbur? You don’t know how to say no?”

“Tommy.”

“Oh.”

“He said no, and I was happy for him, but if I said no…” Tubbo shrugs. “He always protected me, even though I’m older. I wanted to keep him from that, from what I watched happen to Wilbur and Schlatt. Didn’t work very well, since it only happened to me, too.”

Techno’s watching him with a blank look. His lip twitches once. “You didn’t kill him.”

“I’ve been here before,” Tubbo says. “Blame the rocks that poked a hole in the lifeboat, not the person heavy enough to make it sink.”

“I’m pretty sure Dream is the one who poked the holes,” Techno says. “Don’t give yourself that much credit.”

Tubbo snorts. The snow isn’t so cold now. 

The prison looks worse at night. 

It towers over them like an omen, like a grave. Tubbo stops short.

He’ll need a grave. 

“Tubbo!” Ranboo shouts, falling over his own feet as he rushes towards them, yanking Tubbo into a hug. “You can’t just disappear! I thought you— I thought something—”

“It’s okay,” Tubbo says. He doesn’t have the energy to hug him back. “Techno was with me.”

Ranboo steps back, looking at Techno with wide eyes, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hello.” Techno sheaths his sword, looks up at the prison, his face pinches. “He didn’t deserve somewhere that grim.”

“He didn’t deserve it,” Ranboo adds. Techno drops a hand on his shoulder, and after a second of hesitation, does the same for Tubbo.

It’s a sad sight. It’s a dark one. Tubbo closes his eyes.

He keeps saying he’s been here before, but the reality is, he hasn’t, he wasn’t. The only times he wasn’t at Tommy’s side—

Tommy never wanted to be alone. The last thing he deserved was to die that way.

People start to gather around them, faces Tubbo recognizes and doesn’t dare focus on. He knows the second he looks away from the prison or strays from Techno’s protective shadow, they'll descend on them with their apologies and pity.

Tubbo doesn’t want it. 

He doesn’t mind, however, when Phil lands gently at his side, his Elytra as effective as wings if not more painful to see. He smiles at Tubbo, his eyes are red.

Tubbo almost asks how many times he’s done this, in his eternity of living. How many times has he lost a child? Phil's eyes are red and his wings are burnt. Tubbo doesn’t ask.

Quackity stops next to him, and Tubbo thinks he’s brave for standing so close to Technoblade, but death means truce, and the scars on Tubbo’s and Quackity’s faces are enough.

“Hey, Mr. President.”

Tubbo laughs bitterly, “Hi.”

“I just wanted to tell you that this… it’s Dream, it was then, it is now. Remember that, okay?” Quackiy walks away after that, and Tubbo stares after him, jaw slack.

He wonders sometimes, how much Quackity sees.

He’s pulled away from his thoughts when someone gasps. The purple glow of the prison’s entry flashes, and when Tubbo looks his knees go weak.

Sam must have built him a coffin.

Tubbo falls, and Ranboo catches him, arms around his shoulders and forehead pressed against the side of his head like he’s hiding behind Tubbo as much as he’s supporting him. Tubbo stares straight ahead at the full coffin Sam and Ant are carrying and he can feel his bones start to break one by one. 

“He’s claustrophobic,” he whispers. Sam glances at him once and looks away. 

Ranboo squeezes him tighter. 

“He doesn’t like tight spaces,” Tubbo tries again. “He doesn’t like being alone.”

The coffin is too small. The life is too short. The burden is too heavy. Tubbo breaks. 

He knows everyone is staring at him, watching him with guilty and watery eyes. He feels the tears roll down his cheeks as sobs rack through him and he lets the world fall apart beneath his feet.

_ “You’re my best mate,” Tommy says. “It’ll be us, forever. Alright?” _

_ Tubbo laughs, happy and fearless, skin and soul free of scars. “Yeah, forever.” _


End file.
